


Your Shelter From the Rain

by OceanofNoise



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Coming Out, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Outing, Pittsburgh Penguins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:51:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanofNoise/pseuds/OceanofNoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A former teammate unintentionally outs a player among the Penguins ranks.</p><p>And so the witch hunt begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Shelter From the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> The opportunistic media is probably a little exaggerated here, just a little? They're not all bad, right? Also Happy late Valentine's Day!

_“I can’t imagine why anyone would have any problems playing with a gay teammate. There are more players than people might think that have played with a gay teammate. I know for sure that I played with one. He’s still playing on that team.”_

 

As well-intentioned as Tyler Kennedy’s words were for the acceptance of homosexuals in organized sports, he probably had no idea what kind of bag of shit-storm he had torn open on his former team.

James had to admit that he was pretty damn curious as to whom this gay teammate was, but his interest paled in comparison to the swarm of media that descended once the interview had been published.

The speculation was rampant, most of it falling on their captain. Sidney bore this attention with surprising calmness. At least at first.

“I definitely agree with what Tyler said. But I have no idea who he’s talking about.”

The next question in the pre-game media scrum suggested that Tyler may have been talking about him. Sidney laughed.

“No, not me. But I think whoever it might be should have his right to privacy.”

Which of course, to the press, meant that a) it was their duty to pester anyone affiliated with the Penguins regarding this subject matter (including and not limited to the coaching staff, upper management, the Zamboni driver and anyone in town donning the Penguins logo) and b) it was probably still Sidney Crosby and if you asked him enough times he might finally admit it.

After the third day it was definitely becoming a distraction. No one broached the subject in the locker room, especially when Dan all but threatened to send whoever contributed to the shit disturbing to Wilkes-Barre. But the media did it enough for them. It was wearing them thin, especially the captain, who was bearing the brunt of the harassment. They asked him point-blank, carefully weaved into other questions, as an aside, ambushing him while he was trying to enjoy a meal out. Clearly there was an agenda.

“I’m not gay,” he finally snapped after being questioned about it for what seemed like the hundredth time. Sidney’s failure to quantify his answer further gave enough fodder for the papers to spin their own stories.

James had been asked about it himself, and took his word for it when he dismissed the claims. There were several bachelors on the teams but Sidney seemed to be singled out as Most Likely to Be Gay. Some of the headlines were just downright cruel.

“This article is actually accusing Sid of being a homophobe,” James said, pointing to the text with one hand while mushing the ketchup into his scrambled eggs with a fork in the other. He read out loud: “ _Is it quite possible that the Penguins captain is so far in the closet that he shows outward disgust at the notion of being a homosexual?_ ” He slapped down the paper. “Can you believe that they printed this shit? Like being annoyed about being called something you’re not suddenly means you hate those people. I have to tell people all the time that I’m not American, but does that mean I hate Americans? No.”

Paul took a sip of his orange juice and offered a non-committal “Mhmm.”

“It’s not true. I don’t hate Americans. But, being honest, I’d rather be called gay than an American.”

That at last earned a reaction from Paul in the form of a flick in the ear as he passed by James to pour them more orange juice. “Maybe you should tell the Trib that. Take some heat off Sid.”

“You wonder who it might be?”

“Not anyone’s business,” Paul replied simply. James thought about reaching for the paper again but Paul got to it first and slammed it into the recycling.

He’d never really thought about who would win Most Likely to Be Gay on the team, but he could see why Sidney had been made the target. Good-looking guy, slightly neurotic, notoriously private, and for all intents and purposes, very single. James wondered if drawing on these stereotypes made him homophobic.

“Not homophobic,” Paul reassured him. “Maybe ignorant. Gay people don’t exactly have a set list of characteristics besides the fact that, well, they’re attracted to members of their own gender.”

He kind of loved it when Paul talked like that: liberal, articulate, slightly judgmental, and exactly like someone who’d been through higher education. James had missed out on the college experience entirely in lieu of the NHL and he knew that a lot of guys did the same thing, but being around Paul and hearing him speak about current issues so eloquently made James feel a little more intelligent himself by proxy.

Plus Paul always made the best eggs.

 

When the press caught wind of the fact that Tyler had personally called Sidney to apologize for the trouble his words had caused him and his team, well, the media machine came back, louder and fiercer. Never mind the fact that Tyler had just done so as a friend to another, or as captain Sidney was the defacto representative of the team to contact. The media saw it another way entirely.

Sidney called an emergency team meeting after practice with the director of communications.

“The important thing is to be respectful,” Jennifer said. “Not only for the media’s sake. But to the person, if he may exist, that Tyler is referring to.”

“We’d be nothing but supportive,” Sidney snapped, looking haggard and spiteful. “And I’m not asking this person to come out to us. That’s not the problem we’re having. How do we make the media shut up and go away?”

Fat chance. There were reporters from Toronto and Montreal now, looking to expose the golden boy of hockey as a player for the other team. It was fitting and ironic at the same time. Sid was a Penguin through and through. His supposed sexual inclinations had no bearing on his hockey and nine years as one of the NHL’s best should have been enough evidence.

“We can’t. And we don’t want them to. Remember: they aren’t the enemy here. We need them as much as they need us,” Jennifer pointed out diplomatically.

“Hah,” Flower snarked.

Jennifer rolled right along, providing lists of suggested responses to say in order to deflect the onslaught of questions that they might encounter. James looked at Sidney a few seats down. His captain watched Jennifer diligently but the expression on his face was despondent.

“If you ignore then it go away,” Geno suggested with a touch on Sidney’s elbow after Jennifer had left the locker room. “Remember DMV? People stupid.”

“This isn’t like the stupid DMV thing,” Craig argued. “That was just desperate and lazy journalism. This is like a live bomb. They’re just waiting for something here to explode so they can—“

“Scoop up the body parts. Dance in the rain of blood,” Rob Scuderi sniped through gritted teeth.

“Maybe if we think of it like a losing streak it would help,” was Joe Vitale’s proposal. “That’s when the toughest and harshest questions come. If we act like this is a long slump then it might make it easier for us to tackle. It’s more familiar.”

“Only the questions are ‘Are you gay? Do you know who’s gay? Is Sidney gay?’,” Brooks slumped against the wall.

“You can just say no when they ask you if I’m gay,” Sidney barked. “You don’t have to say ‘You should ask Sidney that’.”

“I can’t speak for other people,” Brooks was standing up now, challenging. “How am I supposed to know for absolute sure that you’re not gay if I’m not you?!”

“That’s the kind of bullshit answer that makes them ask me over and over again!” Sidney’s face was twisted in anger now, and he was standing too.

“Sid,” Geno took Sidney by the shoulder as if to hold him from a pre-emptive attack. “Brooksie only try to help. We all try to help. No one fault.”

“When you tell the reports to ask me it makes them think that there’s a story. I already told you that I’m not gay, and I told you that you can tell the media that,” Sidney said, his eyes sharp as spears at Brooks.

“I don’t feel comfortable doing that and I won’t do that if fucking Obama told me to do it. Just because you say something doesn’t make it true. Fucking Duper could be gay even if he’s married. How the fuck am I supposed to know for sure?!”

“Then you are part of the problem!”

“Stop thinking that this whole problem is about you Sid, because it’s not.” Brooks took a step towards his captain and Geno stepped between them, holding his hand up as if to say _Easy big guy_.

“Do you think I asked to make it my problem?!” Sidney looked like he was about to cry or start swinging punches. “There are media trucks parked in front of my house all day. I can’t drive out without a reporter banging on my fucking window screaming things at me! Until you’ve lived it don’t fucking talk like you think I’m being selfish!”

There was so much yelling and fearful staring that it took a loud shout of “ _Hey!_ ” from Paul before everyone in the room directed their attention to him.

“Tyler was talking about me, okay? I’m the gay teammate.”

 

The meeting basically deteriorated from there. The guys offered their best wishes and support and the group filed out of the locker room numbly. Sidney assured Paul that no one would have any problem with him or his desire to keep his sexual orientation out of the press, then exchanged apologies with Brooks before adjourning the meeting.

“What was spoken in this meeting does not leave the room. Understood?” Sidney defied anyone to object. “Until Paul gives us the okay, we do not tell a soul.”

Paul’s confession didn’t exactly solve any problems. The media was going to keep asking questions until someone spilled the beans, and James was going to do his damndest to make sure that didn’t happen. And Sidney would still go home to gossip columnists trying to scale his fence but in the wake of this new revelation he didn’t seem as bothered, his leadership instincts kicking in to protect one of his own. James knew exactly how that felt.

James hadn’t said a thing until Paul had turned into a smaller street with fewer cars.

“I didn’t know you were gay,” said James softly.

He didn’t dare look at Paul but heard the leather of the steering wheel crinkle under the intensity of Paul’s grip. “Of course not. I never told you.”

“I know, but we spent so much time together. I can’t believe I never picked up any signs.”

“Because there were none.” Paul rolled to a stop in front of James’s house. “I’ll see you later.”

He headed straight to his kitchen to assemble his lunch, which, after surveying the contents of his kitchen, would consist of take-out from his dinners over the past few days. There was the cut of steak when the team went out together three nights ago, the shrimp scampi from two nights ago because Paul felt like seafood, and four cheese ravioli from this Italian place that James had wanted to try and even though Paul said that he wasn’t in the mood for pasta James insisted, arguing that it was only fair since they had gone to “Off the Hook” the night before.

Huh.

He shredded the steak into chunks with his hands then spooned everything together into a bowl and placed it in the microwave on high for three minutes. He watched the counter tick down for a hundred and eighty agonizing seconds.

Paul was gay.

Paul was gay and never told James. They had known each other for years, lived together for months and Paul had never bothered to tell him.

Oh God, what if James had been affecting Paul’s ability to bring guys home by moving in? But Paul had been the one to suggest it. James had been tired of living out of a hotel and was more than grateful for the offer. Maybe Paul had sacrificed his sex life for James’s sake. He wouldn’t have put it past Paul. Paul was, after all, a nice guy.

His recollection jumped suddenly to a discussion they had had on that very subject, namely James telling Paul point blank that if he wanted to bring women over then he was perfectly fine with that and Paul didn’t worry about James because hey, he was already eating Paul’s food and overtaking Paul’s bathroom. He wasn’t going to be a cock block too. Paul had smirked and said that the information was “duly noted”. Well, in James’s defense, he had just been playing the odds when he assumed that Paul’s taste was for the gentler sex, and his offering had been well-intentioned. He hadn’t even considered doing the same himself. What kind of houseguest would he have been?

The microwave beeped three times and James welcomed the break in his train of thought. He took the bowl out of his microwave, gave it a good stir to incorporate the hodgepodge of flavours together and sat down at the kitchen island to enjoy his meal of dinners past.

He was a God damned man, and a professional athlete at that so he could finish a steak in a sitting no problem. But Paul’s lobster ravioli had been so good that he’d helped himself to almost half of Paul’s dish without even realizing it. Despite James’s insistence that Paul take his fair share, the steak remained solely his. The leftover shrimp scampi was a result of him eating the shared appetizer all by himself (what kind of person didn’t like scallops?!) and the four cheese ravioli had actually been Paul’s leftovers. To James it was all good though. Paul seldom ordered a bad dish and was James’s culinary benefactor, if you will.

…Huh.

 

His afternoon nap was predictably fitful.

Paul was gay.

Paul was gay and James had had no idea.

How could James have not had even the slightest inkling? He didn’t buy into the assertion that he wouldn’t have known just because Paul had never brought it up. There should have been hints, maybe around the house. Had it been tastefully decorated? Not exactly. Did he have a ton of gay cinema in his DVD collection? He couldn’t really recall. Did Paul ever make a pass at James?

Nope. That much he knew for certain.

They hadn’t really talked about girls much. Their conversations had a breadth of topics: family, their hometowns, food, movies, TV shows, football, baseball, and of course, hockey. From such he did know that Paul at least had a girlfriend or two in high school or college. That wasn’t very helpful. Some gay men married and had children with women. Some of these men, if a few _South Park_ episodes could be trusted, snuck into late night bath houses and had wild gay sex with anonymous partners.

For the months that he lived with Paul he couldn’t recall him staying out late at night once (unless it was with the team). He was a real simple guy: early to bed, read the paper every morning, just did his business and never made much about it. Maybe during the off-season things were different. Maybe Paul had a swinging sex life in Minnesota.

The idea unnerved James. He couldn’t picture his Paulie being one of those guys. And even if he was, he deserved better than that. He deserved a guy that liked to stay in on a Saturday night eating microwave popcorn straight from the bag and laughing at the terrible movies the TV networks liked to air at one o’clock in the morning. He deserved a guy that appreciated his hearty breakfasts and the perfect not-too-runny eggs. He deserved a guy that loved him and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. He deserved a guy that deserved Paul.

It wasn’t fair. Paul didn’t deserve this life, fearing the backlash that could come from an outing, the actual physical danger he faced just for being attracted to the same gender. Paul deserved to be happy, and being a gay professional athlete was anything but. He deserved to not have to hide the person that he was, because he was such a great guy. He deserved all the goodness of the world. He deserved someone just like him.

James sat up on his elbows and peered at the clock on his nightstand. It was almost three o’clock. Paul would be awake by now and overrun with agonizing thoughts, maybe petrified of the news getting out, maybe contemplating an early retirement. He grabbed a hoodie and sweatpants and made a direct course to Paul’s house.

 

“Hey James. What’s up?”

Never Nealsy or Neal, always James. It sounded strangely endearing. What he didn’t like, however, was the graininess in Paul’s voice. It made his heart drop to his feet.

James shrugged, looking down at his snow covered sneakers. “I just wanted to see how you were holding up.”

Paul shrugged back. “I’m fine.”

He had to look at Paul full-on then. “Really?”

This time Paul let out a little sigh and admitted “I guess I could be better.”

James let himself through the door and Paul stepped to the side to allow James to pass through. He stood in the foyer not knowing what else to say and normally that wouldn’t have bothered him but he felt like he ought to say something comforting and felt a panicked sense of urgency as he unsuccessfully tried to wrack his brain.

“Sid’s here,” Paul said, gesturing toward the kitchen.

“Hi,” Sidney’s voice echoed through the hallway.

James felt a little disoriented but made his way into the kitchen and gave Sidney a congenial pat on the shoulder before sitting on a bar stool beside him.

Sidney turned to him, still nursing what looked like a cold mug of tea. “I’m glad you’re here. Maybe you can help me convince Paulie to not come out.”

James furrowed a brow and waited for Paul to respond before forming his own. He was rewarded when Paul shook his head and said “What are you gonna do, Sid? Sooner or later you’re going to have a hit-and-run on a reporter, and we won’t judge you if it’s intentional.”

“I can deal with it,” Sidney said firmly. “The police have already asked them to keep a distance away.”

“Don’t give me that, Sid. You looked like you wanted to punch a hole in the locker room.”

“I was just frustrated,” Sidney said in a small, apologetic voice. “I just needed to vent.”

“It’s my fault that—“

“Damn it Paul, it’s not your fault. Hell, it’s not even Tyler’s fault. You are not coming out for my sake and that’s final, okay?” Paul opened his mouth to speak but Sidney cut him off before so much as a syllable could be uttered. “And don’t give me bullshit about how you want to do it, because if you had wanted to do it then you would have already done before Tyler even said anything. You don’t have to be a martyr Paul.”

“Your private life is your private life,” James added, hoping to be helpful. “You don’t owe anyone anything.”

Sidney nodded encouragingly and Paul seemed to brighten with relief, but a part of James wanted to snatch those last words back. Unable to, he instead asked “How did Tyler know? Did you tell him?”

Paul paused, and with obvious pain answered “I have no idea how he found out. And if he knows without me telling him then I have no idea who else might know.”

The guilt in the pit of James’s stomach was no revelation. Learning that Tyler was privy to one of Paul’s secrets before James generated no small amount of confusion, and perhaps some jealousy. The fact that it had been unfounded was at Paul’s expense, and James couldn’t help but feel terrible about that.

“If someone else knows, then they probably had no intention of saying anything, otherwise they would have blackmailed you already or something.” Sidney set his mug down after a few swallows of tea and gave Paul a pointed look. “You… haven’t been blackmailed, have you?”

Paul shook his head, and James released a grateful breath.

Sidney drained the remainder of his tea and stood up. “I just want you to know Paul, that we’re behind you a hundred percent. We’re family and you can trust us. And, well, if anyone says anything different, you let me know and I’ll deal with him.”

“Not if I get to him first,” James muttered, more to himself than anything.

“You guys don’t have to fight my battles,” said Paul through gritted teeth. “I know you two mean well. But Sid, you’re already dealing with enough problems.”

“I’m your captain. That’s my job,” Sidney pointed out matter-of-factly and without any hint of compromise.

Paul thanked Sidney for his visit and they parted ways. Once the front door was shut there was a sense of déjà vu as James felt another wave of panic seize his throat shut.

“I’m still the same guy,” Paul snapped, looking more irritated than he’d seen in quite some time. “You knowing that I’m gay doesn’t make me a different person.”

Sure, from Paul’s perspective. Nothing’s changed in his mind. But the news was all fresh and foreign to James. He’d never had another teammate in his life just come out and say “I’m gay” in the locker room. No one ever had a reason to and he knew that Paul had done it, had risked career suicide to take the heat off of Sidney and for that James couldn’t help but feel a small burst of affection.

Even if the man in front of him was still scowling.

James did his best to laugh like old times and nudge Paul on the shoulder. “C’mon, give me a break. It’s not every day that one of your best friends tells you he’s gay.”

Finally Paul’s shoulders relaxed and his face eased into that familiar grin that always made James grin back. “I guess you got me there.”

James waved his head in the direction of the living room. “Let’s see what shitty afternoon movies are playing now.”

Paul folded his arms over his chest and said “You don’t have to baby me like this. I’m not going to slit my wrists or anything while you’re not here.”

He hadn’t even thought of that, and the very idea made the blood in his veins run cold. He laughed heartily to conceal the throb of terror in his chest. “You’re nuts Paulie. I’m bored. I just want to hang out.” He just wanted Paul to not feel alone. He wanted to protect him, like Paul had done for him when James had first come into Pittsburgh with no contacts, no car and nowhere to live.

 _Mrs. Doubtfire_ was on and while they both agreed that it most definitely did not fall into the shitty movie category they watched it anyway.

“So, uh,” James began, unsure of how to proceed. “Your family. Do they know that… you know.”

“That I’m gay?” Paul glared at James with so much intensity that he blushed. “You can say it, it’s not going to give you cancer. Yes, of course they know.”

Damn it, this was hard. His natural tendency was to grab a fistful of his own hair when he was nervous and, well, it wasn’t lost on Paul, who was glaring again. Before Paul could yell at him some more James blurted “So how did they react when they found out that, you kn—that you were gay?”

At least Paul stopped glaring to direct his attention back to the movie. “They were surprised, I guess, but they took it pretty well.”

“Cool.” They lapsed into another silence while Robin Williams buried his face into a thickly-iced cake. “How about, like, your friends and stuff?”

“Some of them figured it—“ Paul cut himself off in mid-sentence to glare at James again. “Are you wondering why I never told you?”

James twisted his fingers in his hands. “Um… yeah. I mean, you didn’t have to, but…” There wasn’t any way to finish his sentence so he just left it hanging, like the clinging silence in the air.

Paul puffed out a loud sigh. “It’s hard, telling people. You have no idea how they might react. It’s just easier not to, especially in this field of work.”

He could identify. When his segment of _NHL36_ came out some reacted with disgust over his hair-washing schedule, some thought it funny, some didn’t care. Although he supposed that someone’s personal hygiene and someone’s sexual orientation weren’t exactly comparable (even if James could not be persuaded to change his routine, no matter how many interventions his teammates had staged).

“Did you think that I would have freaked out?” James considered his own question. He was from a land far more socially progressive but working in a field far less so… maybe Paul had a point. But to say that he would have freaked out was a bit disingenuous. Okay, maybe he would have freaked out a teeny, tiny bit but he couldn’t dream of turning his back on Paulie.

It took Paul so long to answer that James had to turn to look at him, demanding one. Finally, Paul said in a soft voice “I couldn’t risk it.”

 

He tried not to take too much stock into Paul’s words, _I couldn’t risk it_. He was just being cautious. He must have spent his entire life walking on egg shells so James ought not to let this unintentional slight wound his ego. But he thought they trusted each other. They weren’t just teammates, they were close friends. If James was gay he definitely would have told Paul. Probably.

What he knew for sure was that if he was gay, and if he had told Paul then Paul would have accepted him, would have kept his secret, would have fought for him to the death and would have never betrayed him. Paul was a great friend and loyal to a fault. James loved that about Paul, more than he loved his breakfasts or his coffee.

He wondered, as he laid in bed that night, if Paul did the things he did out of kindness, or if he needed James even just a fraction as much as James needed Paul.

 

James knew how to make eggs. He even had eggs in his scarcely stocked refrigerator. A lot of them. He only went to Paulie’s because it was easier, and they both enjoyed the company. And Paul would feel sad if he didn’t have someone else to cook eggs for, so James was just being considerate when it all boiled down to the lowest common denominator (and if that didn’t really make any sense, well, he never really did that well in math).

It was all in all a pretty pleasant breakfast. They talked world issues vis a vis the front page of the paper, they talked Steelers, Paul laughed at James’s unkempt hair (which he never bothered to style for breakfast because hey, it was just Paulie). Just like old times.

The locker room was noticeably reserved on that particular practice. It wasn’t that their teammates were avoiding Paul. It was more like they were going out of their way not to. Which was really weird to watch.

During a private moment on the ice James felt Geno tap his shin with the blade of his stick. “Lazy, I knew he was your boyfriend.” Geno’s grin was wide and testing.

James rolled his eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Too bad. He too good for you.”

James rolled his eyes again.

“Sid say that we have team meeting at football pitch after practice. Only players, no coach.”

“Football pitch?”

This time it was Geno’s turn to roll his eyes. “Soccer.”

They reconvened at said soccer pitch as planned.

“Paul, I’m sorry to put you on the spot again. But I want this to be an opportunity for you to tell us anything you want. What’s off-limits, how you feel, anything on your mind.”

This must have been something that they had discussed yesterday while at Paul’s house because Paul did not seem put upon whatsoever. He cleared his throat and spoke concisely: “Well, I guess what I want to say most is that I’m still the same guy, never changed. And I wanna thank everyone for their support. You guys are great and I really appreciate it. And I hope you all respect the fact that I do want to keep this private so please keep it private. Thanks. Thanks a lot.” Sidney’s eyes sharpened at Paul, urging him on. “That’s all I wanted to say!” He insisted.

“Fine.” Sidney turned to face the group. “I just want to add that we are a united front. Anyone who objects to anything Paul has said speak now because if I catch you doing shit later I will personally make sure you regret it ten times over.” The only response he got was the shuffling of about twenty pairs of shoes. “All right. Does anyone have anything else to say before we adjourn?”

Flower looked like he wanted to say something funny but seemed to decide against it.

Joe Vitale rose his hand and waited for Sidney to call on him, clearly respecting the process. “This is a personal question so I’m sorry if this is out of bounds, but I’m just curious. Are you dating anyone right now?”

“I’m not,” Paul answered after a moment, which was exactly the moment after James realized that he hadn’t been breathing.

“I have a cousin who—“

Sidney cut off Beau Bennett’s attempt to play matchmaker, deeming it “off-topic”. Brooks reiterated the fact that everyone seemed to have no problem with any of Paul’s requests or Sidney’s threats and soon after the group dispersed.

“I’ve never seen Sid like this before,” James noted as Paul drove them back home.

“Like what? Overly emotionally invested?”

Well, that too, but that wasn’t what James had in mind. Sidney was a lead-by-example kind of captain, more passive and reluctant to challenge the status quo. Seeing him take such an impassioned stand was refreshing and quite admirable, especially after his very safe answer regarding the Russian anti-gay laws during the Olympic orientation camp press conference.

“Sid is the kind of guy that will defend a teammate like he’s his own brother. Which I guess to Sid is kind of true,” Paul pointed out. “We’re his family.”

“That’s…” James didn’t know whether to esteem Sidney or pity him.

“Good leadership,” Paul supplied.

“How can you be so calm about this?!” James suddenly heard himself shouting. The strength of his own voice frightened him but he was helpless to continue. “Isn’t this, like, a big deal? I know, I know, being gay doesn’t make you a different person, and there’s nothing wrong with being gay, but there are people out there who will try to use this information to take advantage of you, or to hurt you. Aren’t you scared?”

“Of course I’m scared,” Paul snapped. “Until you live the life I’ve lived, you have no idea how scary it can get. But I can’t control how other people react, or what they do, so what’s the sense in freaking out?”

“You—you need—I—“ Paul gave James ample time to piece together his thoughts but in the end he just slumped in the passenger seat and scrubbed his hands over his face. In a brief moment of clarity he murmured “I just wish…” that he could protect Paul, like the way Paul had protected James from himself and from the cruel outside world during his transition from Dallas to Pittsburgh. Paul had dragged James out of bed when he didn’t feel like he wanted to face the day, Paul had made the strange new locker room feel more like home, Paul had… well, in otherwise very unhappy circumstances, Paul had made him happy.

James felt his chest contract unexpectedly.

“L-look,” Paul began gently after turning his head quickly from the road just in time to see James wince. “I know you’re just trying to be a good friend. The best thing you can do for me is just to not act any differently. Like nothing has changed.”

As he took in a shaky, gulping breath, James was beginning to realize that everything had changed.

 

James had been called dense, dumb, all sorts of mean names by his teammates (and yes, even by Paul because although he was a good friend, only an absolute saint could be above locker room chirping). But it only took him all of two days to reconcile the fact that, well…

He was in love with Paul.

The idea had swirled in his head as he tossed and turned in bed the night before. And he knew it for a certainty by the sharp sweat of terror and resignation that shortly followed this epiphany. Maybe he hadn’t lived the life that Paul had, but somehow now he could sort of identify.

He was itching to tell Paul. Together, they could navigate the cruel world as a united force. The idea took the edge of his recent self-discovery off just a smidgen. With Paul, he just felt like everything would turn out all right.

Except, the thought struck him suddenly and with more punch than the first, that Paul had given him no indication that he had any interest in, let alone was in love with James. Had he? For months James had practically lived out of Paul’s pocket and a hint hadn’t even been proffered. That should have been evidence enough.

But James had courted women with more indifference toward him than Paul. He had charmed them with a keen show of his best qualities. That much wouldn’t work on Paul. Paul knew him inside and out. He knew how petulant James could be when he got into one of his moods and he knew first hand why Geno had dubbed him ‘Lazy’. Maybe that, he thought with despair, was why Paul only tolerated him with a friendship. Paul deserved better than him.

 

James went to Paul’s place for breakfast pretty regularly, and always on afternoon game days. Normally if Paul was offering or James was asking they’d text in the morning so Paul could begin breakfast preparations ahead of him. On afternoon game days, there was no question of whether or not James would be sitting in his spot at Paul’s kitchen counter wolfing down scrambled eggs with ketchup.

He let himself into Paul’s house and sure enough, Paul was turned to the stovetop with two plates already prepped beside him. The ketchup and the butter for the toast were already out on the counter.

“You look terrible,” said Paul by way of greeting as he handed James his plateful of scrambled eggs.

“Didn’t sleep well,” James replied, avoiding Paul’s inquisitive eyes.

“Why?”

James shrugged, focusing his attention on the eggs in front of him. Paul mercifully didn’t pry further, instead pouring him a mug of fresh coffee which he took with silent gratitude.

Once they’d polished off their plates James didn’t really feel like going home just yet so he suggested that they watch some TV. Paul pointed at his Xbox. Even better.

“This probably explains why I do most of the driving,” Paul chirped as he lapped James in _Forza_.

“That’s fine. I’ll just shoot you between the eyes in _Call of Duty_ later.”

“No wonder why people mistake you for an American,” was Paul’s dry reply.

“You know,” James began abruptly, his mouth moving ahead of his mind. “This would be easier if you were Canadian.”

Paul stopped the track selecting process on the TV screen to look at James. “What would be?”

“You know.” The look turned into a glare. “Being gay? Canada’s more, like, accepting and whatever. You might like it more, living in a place like that.”

“It’s not easy being gay anywhere,” Paul murmured, scrolling aggressively through the list of tracks.

“I know. But maybe Canada would be… easier? You should consider it.”

“What are you getting at, James?”

Talking out of his ass always had the end result of backing himself into a corner, which made it easier to throw caution to the wind and precipitate what he planned to say next by asking “Can I ask you something Paul?”

“Did you just ask me for permission to ask me a question?”

“Yes I did.”

“What the fuck James.”

“I’m serious Paul. Can I ask you something?”

Paul made a sweeping gesture with his arm as if to say _Be my guest_.

James sucked in a sharp breath and blurted “Were you ever attracted to me?”

He looked down at his feet as a pre-emptive measure, pretty sure that any second now Paul would burst out laughing at the absurdity of such a notion. He waited and nothing came.

“Paulie?” it was with all his courage that he looked up and turned to look at the man beside him.

He didn’t expect to see Paul’s face beet red, looking determinedly at his hands gripping the Xbox controller. There was a quiver in his voice as he sidestepped James’s question completely and suggested that they play another game. James felt the couch dip from the momentum as Paul shot up like a projectile and stumbled to his meticulously catalogued collection of console software.

“Paulie.” He was up and behind Paul before he could even determine what it was he was doing. His heart was hammering in his chest but he was not going to back down.

He brushed his fingers against Paul’s knuckles before threading their hands together. They were warm, just like their mouths when James bent down and caught Paul’s in a soft kiss.

“Paulie, Paulie,” he murmured, his lips still ghosting along Paul’s. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me before?”

“I—I didn’t think you’d feel the same way,” Paul replied breathlessly. “I had no idea how you’d react—“

James kissed every morsel of doubt away.

 

He wanted nothing more than to spend the day doing nothing else but learning more about Paul’s everything, touch him everywhere, announce his love to everyone and let the world go rot. It was only at Paul’s insistence that he reluctantly went back home to prepare for the game. And if he skipped a little during the short walk back, well, he didn’t really give a damn who saw him.

The more he replayed the morning’s events in his head while he dressed, the less surprised he was at how well he was taking it. Maybe he’d have a big gay freak out sometime, but today was not the day. He was in love with a wonderful man who loved him back. They were going to be young and in love and play hockey together forever. What more could he ask for?

“Fuck Nealsy, what’s up with that shit-eating grin? You finally get laid?”

James just kept smiling and brushed past Duper. He hadn’t, not yet anyway, purely due to time constraints. Hell, maybe they wouldn’t even have sex tonight. Paul was a nice guy and James wanted to show him a nice time before they got to the carnal part of their relationship. A proper courtship was what Paul deserved and the very least of what James would bestow.

“Seriously dude, your face is freaking me out. What gives?”

“I’m just in a good mood,” he replied with a wink.

“Well stop being in a good mood. It’s creepy.”

Duper could have slammed his face against the wall and it wouldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Off to the side he saw Paul frowning at him. Maybe he could tone it down a little.

He had barely taken a seat on his part of the bench to begin gearing up when Flower burst into the room. Grand or ostentatious entrances weren’t unusual for their starting goaltender, but the shouting and the iPad waving was.

“It’s Jeff Deslauriers! That’s who Tyler was talking about!”

There was some boisterous commotion before Flower silenced the group and read the article out loud.

Jeff Deslauriers, the Wilkes-Barre goaltender and teammate of Tyler Kennedy back in 2007, had confirmed his sexual orientation to the media while simultaneously retiring from professional hockey to pursue other interests. The group’s silence remained after Flower had finished, stunned at these new developments.

“Well… well all the best to him,” Duper was the first to speak.

“And the media nightmare is over for Sid!” Bortz gave Sidney’s slumped shoulders a jostle.

“And Paul’s secret is safe with us,” Sidney added after looking up from where his face had been buried in his hands.

The team seemed to let out a collective sigh, then returned to their regular locker room routines.

Almost.

“I don’t get it,” Sidney said, his mouth quirking and eyes squinting in the way he did when he wasn’t sure how to phrase something delicately. “Why does everyone think I’m gay? Is it the way I dress? Or—“

Tanger burst out laughing. “Sid, it’s definitely not because of the way you dress.”

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?” Sidney demanded with a scowl.

“Not what you wear Sid. People think you gay because you such pretty boy,” Geno offered with a gloved hand face wash. “Brooks try help by hitting you in face with puck but you come back as pretty as always.” Sidney wrenched away, flushed and looking displeased and under siege with harsh laughter surrounding him like gunfire.

“Plus wanting a private personal life is pretty much code to the media as gay gay gay,” Craig pointed out sardonically. But then he grinned. “Besides, we know your real deep dark secret is performance enhancing drugs.”

“If Sid took performance enhancing drugs then he wouldn’t even need us on the ice with him,” Kuni said in all seriousness. “Please never do that Sid. I like having a job.”

“As do I,” Sidney’s other line mate added.

There was so much relieved bantering on the subject of what Sidney would be capable of with the aid of performance enhancing drugs that nobody noticed when James turned to Paul and grinned, reassuring and hopeful. Paul turned his head down to avert his gaze but James could see from the apples of his cheeks that he was smiling too.

For the first time in days, James felt like everything would be okay.

 

Getting a reservation at a nice restaurant on a weekend at the last minute was damn near impossible and Paul would probably be ashamed of how aggressively James played the celebrity card in order to do so, but he managed to get a table at a nice (but cautiously not too nice) steak and surf restaurant.

He was nervous, very much like a boy taking someone he really liked out on a first date. James was driving, and it was so quiet inside his Mercedes that Paul laughed.

“This is weird, why are you making this so weird?” he asked with an affectionate nudge at James’s thigh.

“It’s supposed to be weird, I want to do this properly,” James pouted, but he couldn’t help smiling too.

They talked about everything during dinner. And not only the game just two hours removed. He found out how Paul’s parents met, he learned about Paul’s freshman initiation when he joined the Gophers, and James was just soaking it all up. It was just so easy with Paul, he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why they hadn’t done this sooner.

After their meal was polished off (and the tab picked up by James, no arguments allowed), he drove Paul back home and walked him to his door.

“Aren’t you going to come in?” Paul motioned his arm through the threshold after James had given him a soft kiss good night (“Just a taste”, he assured Paul).

“Uh well,” James chuckled and ducked his head down so Paul couldn’t see him blush. “I told you, I want to do this properly.”

Paul startled him by yanking James inside with a pull at his shirt collar and kissing him hungrily. “James, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ve wanted this for years.”

James was ready to uphold his principles, really he was. But the fact that Paul had desired him for that long coupled with the teasing roll of Paul’s hips against his own were too strong a counterpoint for James to refute.

He had never been intimate with another man but with a bit of coaching from Paul and natural body instinct it turned out to be every bit like heaven.

“Holy shit,” James gasped, still panting through his racing heartbeat. It wasn't anything he had ever tried before but he could really get used to _that_.

Paul grinned at him, looking pleasantly fucked. His lips were glossy and cherry red. “Just a taste.”

After their giggles died down Paul fixed on James a solemn expression. “You know, it isn’t going to be easy for the two of us.”

“I know.” James tangled his fingers with Paul’s.

“We’re professional hockey players and if this got into the wrong hands it could be really dangerous for us—“

“I _know_.” But James was smiling.

“And you still want to do this? You’re not scared?”

James pulled Paul closer by where their fingers were intertwined and kissed him sweetly. “You’re worth all the risk in the world.”

And as long as he could keep Paul’s hand in his, there was nothing else in the world to fear.


End file.
